


Klance Mini Fic Prompts from Tumblr

by noussommeslessquelettes



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Autistic Keith (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), Fake/Pretend Relationship, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Laith, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) Has ADHD, M/M, Minor Injuries, Mutual Pining, Originally Posted on Tumblr, POV Keith (Voltron), Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Keith/Lance (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Underage Drinking, klance, leakira - Freeform, technically because it's set in America
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 14:48:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20893832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noussommeslessquelettes/pseuds/noussommeslessquelettes
Summary: Collection of Klance mini fic prompts I did a while back. The prompts are "Things you said when you thought I was asleep," "Things you said when you were drunk," "Things you said when we were on top of the world," and "Things you said too quietly."





	1. Things You Said when You Thought I Was Asleep

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently I fucked up and forgot to save my edits on the tags and fic summary so forgive me my dumb shit lol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Preview:** “So you’re not going to tell him?”
> 
> “I…” Lance’s voice lowered to a murmur. “You’re sure he’s asleep?”
> 
> Pidge hummed assent. “He could sleep through the apocalypse, honest.”
> 
> “So?” Hunk prompted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all so a while back I posted a couple mini fic prompts on [my Tumblr](http://www.noussommeslessquelettes.tumblr.com/) so I'm uploading them onto AO3 now in the interim as I edit the final chapter and epilogue of my current fic [Left (as in Gone)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18796561/)
> 
> (Beginning ANs are copied directly from the Tumblr ask in question)
> 
> miles-from-home asked: I'm a sucker for number 12 if you fancy giving it a go?
> 
> bro honestly me too? It’s kinda funny bc the next chapter of Left as in Gone has this trope too! So part of me was like “do I even gotta write another thing?” but then of COURSE the answer was “absolutely u do” so yes here have a this thing.
> 
> Thanks for your patience; I hope you enjoy!

Full disclosure, Keith had actually woken up about fifteen minutes ago. B-list action movies were the worst genre of film, as far as falling asleep in the middle of them went, and all it had taken was one (of several, he’d gleaned over the last quarter hour) car explosion too many to jolt him begrudgingly out of his slumber.

Still, he’d learned many years ago that if you fell asleep at the end of a movie, people usually didn’t expect you to help clean up after. And though the trick no longer worked with movie nights at home—not since Adam had moved in—it had worked like a charm with his new friends over the past few months. As the end credits rolled before his closed eyelids, the couch beneath him creaked under someone standing up with a yawn.

“Let’s draw a dick on his face,” Pidge muttered.

_ Never mind _ , Keith groaned internally, lamenting the loss of his sloth for the sake of his pride. He drew in a breath—

“Don’t.”

And let it go. It was almost a task to keep his slack expression from adopting a furrowed brow, because that was definitely—

“Just let him be.” The scrape of a plastic bowl on a wooden coffee table played harmony to Lance’s continued argument, the creak of the floorboards his percussion. “He deals with enough torture from us already.”

Hunk scoffed from his place on the recliner, the silence of a nonverbal communication hanging in the air before Lance’s footfalls echoed back into the room.

Lance clicked his tongue. “The things I do for him—and he’s never going to know,” he muttered.

“Probably ‘cause of how you act when he’s awake,” Hunk pointed out, the sharp click of the recliner locking back upright following suit.

“Yeah, well—” another wordless gesture, probably “—okay? I’m dealing with it the best I can.”

Keith almost rolled his eyes, figuring the vaguery was about as much reasoning as Lance could have for the continued tension between the two of them, despite Lance denouncing their purported (A.K.A.  _ fabricated _ ) rivalry some few weeks ago.

Until Pidge’s response, that is.

“So you’re not going to tell him?”

“I…” Lance’s voice lowered to a murmur. “You’re  _ sure _ he’s asleep?”

He felt a scrutinous gaze against his skin, and he did his best to sell the slump in his body (the tension it gave him likely not helping his case, but it must’ve been enough for Pidge.)

She hummed assent. “He could sleep through the apocalypse, honest.”

“So?” Hunk prompted.

Lance sighed. “‘Course not.”

Keith bit his tongue. Could these assholes start being more specific? Or at least have the decency to leave the room so he could pretend to wake up without embroiling himself in this secret that he can’t even understand anyway?

Hunk gave a low whistle. “Never thought I’d live to see the day.”

“Does this mean loverboy Lance has hung up his bow and arrow?”

Keith’s heart kicked in his chest. Wait,  _ loverboy _ ? Did she mean…

“You said it yourself: it’d only freak him out if he knew—and I’m not going to do that to the group. ‘Sides, Keith needs us: his only other friends are his dog and brother-in-law, and Adam only counts on good days.” He laughed, but the others didn’t seem as eager to join in.

Hunk gave an uneasy sound. “I don’t know if Keith—”

“He would. Trust me—Pidge?”

“I…” She sighed. “I won’t say I’ve run the numbers, but it’s not exactly promising.”

“It’s not worth it,” Lance concluded. “Even if he’d stay, what’s the point? It’s not like I have a chance anyway.”

“Lance—”

“You’re going to tell me I’m a catch?” Lance interrupted, then laughed. “Please do; I need to hear it.”

Hunk joined in with a chuckle of his own. “If I didn’t have a girlfriend, I’d date you in a heartbeat.”

Lance’s hand thumped against his chest. “A man after my own heart. Pidge?”

She scoffed. “If I had to date  _ anyone _ , I think you’d be one of the least offensive options out there.”

Empty beer bottles clinked against each other. “Oh, it’s an honour just to be nominated!”

“Y’need any help, bud?” Hunk called out after his retreating steps.

“Nah, you guys can head home; I got the rest of it.”

Hunk lowered his voice, clearly addressing Pidge. “Draw straws on who’s got to wake him up?”

“Just let him sleep,” Lance answered, his voice floating over the back of the couch now. “I’ll drive him home when he wakes up.”

“Ooh,” Pidge cooed, “want him all to yourself, do you?”

“Don’t want us to know how long you’re going to watch him sleep?”

“You—” Lance groaned. “I thought we were being nice to Lance tonight!”

“We were,” Pidge argued. “Hunk, we were nice, weren’t we?”

“Super nice,” Hunk agreed, “so now we get to be mean.”

“ _ Ugh _ , you guys are the worst.” The couch complained as he pushed off, their voices echoing towards the front door. “Why do I tell you anything, again?”

“‘Cause we already know all of your other secrets,” Pidge replied. “You’re forced to trust us now.”

Lance sucked on his teeth. “Yeah, can’t have that shit leaked to the press.” The front door was wrenched open. “Love you, assholes.”

Hunk and Pidge’s goodbyes were a bit too quiet for Keith to discern, but soon after they were spoken, the front door slid shut, and Keith was insulated in the soft bubble of silence of Lance’s living room. He held his breath for Lance to step out of sightline long enough so he could feign rousing, practically celebrating when Lance’s footsteps led him back to the living room, hoping they’d keep on going to the kitchen.

The echo stilled, just as he reached the foot of the couch.

“Of  _ course _ , you have to look adorable when you sleep, too,” he practically spat under his breath. Then he heaved a sigh, and continued to the kitchen.

The moment the sound transferred from hardwood to tile, Keith pushed himself up to sit. His stiff muscles complained, and he rolled out his shoulders as his eyes cracked open, taking in the gentle lamplight and distant kitchen light with squinted eyes. He yawned, elbows resting on his knees as he rubbed his fingers into his eyelids.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

Keith drew in his first full breath, turning to look over his shoulder as Lance walked back in from the kitchen. “Mm.” He cleared his throat, his voice still heavy with the sleep he hadn’t feigned earlier. He scanned the living room then as Lance passed the couch, picking up a couple empty soda cans from the coffee table. He remembered himself a little, and decided to ask, “Where’s Hunk and Pidge?”

He swore he saw Lance freeze for a split-second when he asked it, saw a tension in his shoulders dissipate when he looked Keith in the eye again. He gave an apologetic smile. “Yeah, Pidge didn’t want to wait ‘til you got up to drive you home.”

Keith almost felt uneasy under Lance’s gaze—his attention undivided in the low light, his expression soft and open, dare Keith even say  _ fond _ . He had no business looking at him like that, not when Keith had just woken up, and probably had bedhead or—shit, did he? He ducked and smoothed his hair down with his hands, hoping it looked as casual as he’d envisioned it in his mind’s eye.

“Well, shit.”

“I know,” Lance laughed, leaning a hip against the far armrest, “typical Pidge, am I right? But I can drive you home, if you want.”

Keith chewed on his tongue.  _ Should I tell him? _

“ _ Lance, listen _ .”

It would be easy. Keith wasn’t a good actor, anyway—and Shiro always said honesty was the best policy, especially with people you cared about.

“ _ I heard what you guys were talking about before, and… _ ”

And what? Keith didn’t have a good answer for him—he’d hardly believed Lance tolerated him as a  _ friend _ , let alone adding the prospect of… other feelings.

“Keith?” He blinked, eyes refocusing and lifting back up to match Lance’s. Lance chuckled. “Thought you fell asleep on me again.”

“No, I…” He was far too tired to think this over properly, right now. And a ride home sounded much nicer than a half-hour walk in the cold. “Thanks.”

Lance gave him a smile that made his insides flip. “Cool. I’ll just—” He pushed off the couch. “—Let me chuck these in the kitchen, and we can go.”

“Sure.”

“Don’t fall asleep on me again, ‘kay?” He called back from the other room.

Keith rolled his eyes, pushing up to stand. “I can manage.”

Lance hummed uncertainly. “You sure? You were completely out of it during the movie—snoring and the whole bit.”

Keith froze mid-stretch, dropping his hands with an indignant pout. “I did  _ not _ snore.”

“Did too.”

“I don’t snore!”

Lance rounded back into sight, waving his keys in front of him. “And somehow I heard it with my own ears. Funny how that works.” He winked at Keith in passing, and Keith’s stomach flipped. He gave a quiet groan, hoping that reaction wouldn’t become the norm, in the wake of this unfortunate revelation— _ Lance _ was the one with the crush, after all, right?

He pushed off the couch, twisted his neck until it gave a satisfying pop, then smirked when Lance inevitably vocalised his disgust at it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Link to the original post](https://noussommeslessquelettes.tumblr.com/post/186729948111/im-a-sucker-for-number-12-if-you-fancy-giving-it/).
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic, please kudo, comment, rec, and/or [reblog on Tumblr!](https://noussommeslessquelettes.tumblr.com/post/188130289826/klance-mini-fic-prompts-from-tumblr-chapter-1/)


	2. Things You Said when You Were Drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Preview:** Keith liked to think that the phrase had been better formed in his head, but what came out ended up being, “I thought vodka crans were a Sad Lance Drink.”
> 
> Lance huffed a humourless laugh. “Well, you’re lookin’ at a Sad Lance Lance, buddy.”
> 
> _CW: drinking/drunkenness, (American) underage drinking, mentions of vomit_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mysticalnights2 asked: Oh fun! Things you said mini fic? 11 or 20?💕💕💕
> 
> MM OKAY SO! Ever since I first started writing kl fic I had this idea for a fake relationship AU. I never managed to complete the plot of it so it never got written, but I’ve always wanted to write one particular scene from it, and when I got this I jumped on the chance to write it!!!
> 
> Background on the fic: fake dating AU. Lance’s brother is getting married, and they’re out of town for a long weekend for the wedding. Hunk was invited, and with that Lance and him brought Keith and Pidge as their plus-ones.
> 
> When they get there, they find out that Keith and Lance’s exes were invited to the wedding too–what’s worse, they’re attending the wedding as a couple. Keith makes the executive decision that the both of them are going to fake date and be obnoxiously in love to make them jealous. Hijinks ensue, along with feelings, the latter of which are under the cut!

Keith had never imagined being a fake boyfriend to be more effort than being a real one had ever been. Then again, he’d been a bit foolish to assume that  _ anything _ could be easy when it involved Lance McClain.

But because Lance’s family wasn’t privy to their little secret, it meant that when the wedding party lost the Nuisance of Honour, the immediate suggestion from Lance’s mother was that Keith, as Lance’s Real Boyfriend™, lead the charge on the search efforts. And come one A.M., it meant that Keith made the call to relieve the others of their duty, and to continue the search alone.

And  _ yes _ , it might’ve been Keith’s decision to start this fake relationship in the first place. But it didn’t give Lance permission to go AWOL past midnight, on the night before the wedding, when the two of them had to wake up at fucking seven o’clock tomorrow. But the world didn’t trade in the currency of ‘should’s, and that’s why Keith was riding the elevator down to the front lobby at half-past one instead of sinking back into the plush sheets of the king-sized bed waiting for him 25, 26, now 27 floors above.

At this point, he was about ready to tell the concierge to phone the police about a missing person, then fuck off and go to bed. He indulged in the fantasy of shucking this mess off onto somebody else, as he stomped up towards the front desk—squinting his eyes to contend with the reflection of the chandelier against the counter’s polished brass. Turning his head askance as he passed the hotel bar—

_ Wait _ . He froze in his tracks.  _ The bar _ .

It was so obvious he could’ve smacked himself—they’d checked the fucking pool in the first ten minutes of the search, and they didn’t think of the bar?!—but he focused what little energy he had left on diverting his path, moving close enough to peer past the glass into the darkened room, and locating the one patron perched alone on a barstool. He raised a glass in cheer towards the bartender, then knocked back a swig of the drink—far from his first, judging by how very nearly he toppled out of his seat.

“Fantastic,” Keith deadpanned under his breath as Lance managed to steady himself with a hand on the bartop, his laughter ringing out clear as a bell when Keith pushed through the glass door, shadows falling over him as he moved toward the counter. “Hey asshole,” he called out, holding his tongue past that to judge just how drunk Lance was, lest he waste a castigation on someone who’d not remember a word of it come morning.

Lance perked up at the appellation, spinning in the stool and hoisting his glass up once more. “Hey, babe! C’mere.” He set down the drink—thank god—and pat a hand on the stool next to him. “Join us—whatever y’order, ‘s on me.”

Keith bit down a groan—he’d been here all of five seconds, and already Lance’s behaviour was drawing looks from the other patrons, inscrutable in the dark, but undeniable all the same. He closed the distance between them, but refused the invitation, grabbing Lance’s elbow instead and giving a tug. “I’m not doing that—let’s go.”

“Wait, wait wait wait—” his other hand pumped a five-finger ‘stop’ that bumped against Keith’s chest. He laughed, then brought the hand up between them, curling his index finger to beckon Keith closer. When Keith didn’t oblige, he added a pull with the arm in Keith’s grip.

Keith sighed, leaning forward until their eyes matched, until the humidity of Lance’s vodka breath washed uncomfortably on his face. “What.”

“They didn’t card me,” he stage-whispered. He then failed to stifle a snort, and elbowed Keith away. “Guess that’s what ‘cha get with these bougie-ass places—don’t give a fuck as long as you’ve got the money to back it up!”

Keith folded his arms over his chest. “ _ Please _ tell me you opened up a tab.”

Lance shrugged, reaching for his glass again. “Told ‘em to charge it to our room.”

He groaned—Sober Lance was  _ definitely _ going to try and macgyver a way to pawn the bill off on Keith. But he supposed that was a problem for later, because in the moment Lance was tipping back the last of his current drink, slamming it down on the bartop with needless fervour, and waving the other hand to catch the bartender’s eye.

“Nope.” Keith reached out for his wrist and pulled the hand down. “You’ve had enough.” He looked up to the bartender, who cocked an eyebrow at him silently as Lance whined unintelligibly in his ear. “He’ll have a water.”

“Nooo…” Lance squirmed to get out of his grasp, only to reach back out for him as his ass slid off the stool. Keith caught him reflexively, arms wrapped around Lance’s waist, Lance with two hands fisted in the front of his shirt.

He brought his eyes up, nose brushing against Keith’s cheek with the act. Keith’s heart fluttered, a stammer building in his chest that ultimately turned into the word, “Okay.”

He hoisted Lance back up onto his perch. Once he was firmly seated, Keith crashed back onto the stool behind him—the one Lance had offered him initially—and eyed the bartender as they returned with a tall glass of water.

“And the vodka cran?” They asked.

“We’re good,” Keith dismissed immediately.

They moved on to the next customer with no further ado. It took Keith a split second to register what had been said, but when he did he turned to Lance, who now pointedly stared into the countertop, his smile fallen.

He liked to think that the phrase had been better formed in his head, but what came out ended up being, “I thought vodka crans were a Sad Lance Drink.”

Lance huffed a humourless laugh, reaching for the water. “Well, you’re lookin’ at a Sad Lance Lance, buddy.” His eyes slipped shut as he tipped back the glass, downing a third of it in one go.

Keith turned to rest an elbow on the table, his fingers drumming against the varnished wood. “So you came down here to drown your sorrows?”

Lance massaged his fingertips into his eyes. “What else ‘m I supposed to do?” He dropped the hand, looking straight ahead.

“Talk to someone? You usually love doing that.”

He made a sour face. “Don’t want to. I want to forget about it.”

Keith cocked an eyebrow. “And how’s that working out so far?”

“Honestly? Pretty good ‘til you showed up.”

Keith took it on the chin—it was no secret that their friendship wasn’t always on the best footing (that is, to anyone who wasn’t tricked into thinking they were in a relationship.) And while Lance usually wasn’t a belligerent drunk, he often got a little too truthful. Frankly, Keith had sort of suspected that Lance continued to harbour a little honest animosity towards him, despite the progress their relationship had undergone, and the unfortunate feelings Keith had developed in the process.

And he supposed he should accept responsibility for that, too. What kind of dumbass suggested to his crush that they pretend to date for the weekend of his brother’s wedding, just so they could make their respective exes jealous?

(The desperate kind, probably.)

“Well… then talk to me.” It was the best he could offer—because like  _ hell _ he was leaving Lance drunk, depressed, and alone in a hotel bar. “I’m your boyfriend now, after all.”

“ _ Fake _ boyfriend,” Lance amended pointedly.

Keith frowned—the whole weekend, they’d been calling each other their boyfriends tongue-in-cheek, even when they were alone. It was the first time Lance had expended the effort to correct him. “Is that what’s bothering you?”

“It’s—” He groaned, running his hands through his hair. “I’m  _ way _ too drunk for this right now.”

“We’ve only got one more day,” he offered in consolation, “and we don’t have to do any couple shit if you don’t want to.”

“Mm-mm.” He dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “It’s not that.”

“Then what  _ is _ it?” He asked. Lance shrugged, taking another long swig of water. Keith huffed. “Lance, let’s go up—”

“Y’know why we started this in the first place? Like—” He gestured between the two of them. “Us—”

“I know—”

“ _ Dating _ .” His hand hung in the open air, forgotten as his eyes went unfocused, lost in thought. After a moment, Keith reached out for his wrist, lowering it back down to Lance’s lap.

“I got it. We did it ‘cause… well, to get back at our exes.”

Lance snapped his fingers, grinning. “Exactly! Look at you, smarty pants, ‘n here I thought Hunk and Pidge were supposed to be the geniuses.”

Keith rolled his eyes, nudging the water back towards him. “Focus up, Lance; what about it?”

Lance polished it off, pushing it away so he could rest his elbows on the tabletop. “Guess it leaves me as the only dumb one.”

“Not—” He groaned. “Don’t start with that shit. I mean—”

“I know what you mean,” he murmured, the brief smile slipping off his face. “I’m not  _ that _ dumb, Keith. Look, we were trying to make Nyma ‘n Rolo jealous, but we failed. They’re still happy, and in love, and they think that  _ we’re _ happy and in love.”

Keith nodded. “Okay..?”

“But I’m  _ not _ happy.” His voice started to waver as his volume control went to the wayside. He pushed off the bar to face Keith, a desperate kind of sadness shimmering in the corners of his eyes. “We’re not in love.”

Keith took that on the chin too, though it was noticeably harder to bear.  _ Lance is the drunk one right now, not you _ , he told himself.  _ Don’t say anything that you’ll both regret. _ He swallowed whatever protest he’d had down, and nodded for Lance to continue.

“I want to be,” he spoke it softly, like a confession. “I want to be so bad.”

“It’s not enough to want it,” Keith admitted. He knew it all too well.

Lance sniffed, wiping at his eyes. “And it’s not enough to pretend. But it’s nice for a while, at least.” Keith offered a wry smile, and Lance’s gaze slipped to the floor again. “I don’t know, it’s hard. The two of them are, like… you can tell. It’s like they were made for each other. No one’s ever felt that way about me.”

_ Swallow it down. _ Keith reached out a hand, placing it on Lance’s knee and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I knew all along Nyma didn’t love me, even though I did.” He covered the back of Keith’s hand under his palm, holding it there.

“I’m sorry, Lance.” He’d had no idea that Lance had been so serious about Nyma. For his part, he’d never once believed he was in love with Rolo. “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have suggested—”

“It’s okay. It was stupid for me to pretend that it was real.” He sighed, threading their fingers together clumsily. “But it  _ felt _ real, sometimes.”

“I know,” he lied. It felt like the right thing to say—and besides, what would Lance even care in his state?

“It felt real with you sometimes, too.”

Keith’s breath caught, his fingers twitching in Lance’s grasp.  _ He’s drunk _ , he reminded himself.  _ He’s drunk; he doesn’t know what he’s saying. _ He eased the tension in his body with a deep breath. “It’s not stupid, Lance. You… you care so much. You have so much love to give, and there’s nothing wrong with wanting to share it—and you do; you share it with your family, and with your friends. And I guess sometimes, you share it with the people who don’t appreciate it.”

“And it sucks.”

Keith nodded. “I know.” And this time, it was the truth. “But one day, you’re going to find someone who’s stupid in love with you too—someone who’s never going to let you think otherwise.”

Lance scoffed. “Right.”

“I  _ mean _ it. You’re worth a love worth fighting for, Lance, and you’re going to find it. And when you do, you’ll be the boyfriend of the luckiest person in the world.”

Lance smiled softly. “You’re only saying that ‘cause I’m drunk.”

“Well, I wouldn’t need to convince you to come to bed if you were sober,” he admitted. “But I still mean it.”

“Thanks,” he breathed. “Y’know, whatever guy manages to finally lands you’s going to be one lucky bastard, too.”

Keith sighed. “We’ll see about that.”

“You’re a pretty awesome fake boyfriend, ‘n I bet you’re an even better real one.”

He slid off the stool, wrapping an arm around Lance’s waist. “Well regardless, I’m about to be one hell of a great  _ friend _ , and drag your sorry ass back to our hotel room.”

Lance hummed contentedly, wrapping his arms around Keith’s shoulders and leaning into him. “I want a piggyback.”

“No chance.” He tugged Lance to his feet, bracing himself when his weight inevitably slouched into him.

“Stop, stop—hanggon,” he slurred, his head slumping. “Guh, dizzy…”

Keith stilled, tapping his foot impatiently. “Have you hurled yet?”

“Mm-mm.” Lance took a step forward, and Keith took the charge onward once more.

Keith rolled his eyes—Lance was  _ so _ lucky his fake boyfriend happened to be real in love with him. Keith, on the other hand, would have the misfortune of needing to watch his crush hopefully not choke on his own vomit for the next six hours. “How many drinks did you have?”

“No clue, ‘m too gay to count.” He giggled, then whispered, “Don’t tell my mommy, Keith.”

“What, that you’re gay, that you’re drunk, or that you can’t do math?”

“None. Be like… the KGB.”

“Okay, Lance.” He pushed through the glass door with a toe, marching them through before it swung back on them.

“The Keith Gay… Butts.” He dissolved into a fit of giggles.

Keith’s not proud of the laugh he had to stifle, too. “Oh, you’re  _ so _ lucky I don’t have the hands to dial Pidge right now.”

“What can I say, I’m a lucky guy! Who needs a  _ real _ boyfriend, anyway? I’ve already got a fake one with a cute butt who takes care of me.”

Keith typed up their floor number on the touchscreen by the elevator door. “God, you’re going to be so hungover tomorrow.”

“D’you got Advil?” Keith shook his head. “We’ll go to Marco’s room—his wife’s usually got some.”

The elevator bell rang, doors opening up for them, and he pulled Lance in. “You think you can act sober enough to face your brother?”

“Pshh,  _ oh yeah _ , I got this.”

He pushed off of Keith, staggering a bit but ultimately gaining his footing. Then the elevator lurched into motion and he stumbled. Keith was ready to catch him the moment he did, Lance steadying himself with hands on his shoulders. Once stable, they brought their eyes up as one, and dissolved into a short fit of laughter.

When it eased, Lance wrapped his arms around Keith’s neck, squeezing him close. “Sorry for being sloppy.”

Keith shook his head, returning the embrace. “Don’t be; you’ve held my hair back enough times to earn it.”

“Then thanks,” he said. “For being a good boyfriend.”

He twisted his fingers in the hem of Lance’s shirt. “Anytime.”

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened up.

I like the thought of it being Lance who got drunk bc u always write Keith as the messy drunk. Alternately, it could be an overheard conversation? Vodka crans are a sad Lance drink. Keith finds Lance drowning his sorrows at the hotel bar the night before his brother’s wedding, feeling it his duty to take care of his boyfriend even though their relationship was one fabricated for the weekend. Lance intimates that the bartender didn’t card him, and figured it was because this was such a bougie place, they didn’t give a fuck as long as u had the money to back it up. Keith says “please tell me you opened up a tab” and Lance says he’s having them bill it to the room. Keith groans, knowing sober Lance would try and macgyver a way to pawn the bill off on Keith. Lance laments that he wants to have a real relationship, and Keith’s like boi me too buddy but doesn’t realise that Lance wants him too. Lance talks about how he was stupid for thinking the love he had with Nyma was real, and Keith realises how different they are bc he never thought his relationship with Rolo was real love. Keith reassures him that he’s not dumb, that he’s worth a love worth fighting for, and that one day he’s gonna be the boyfriend of the world’s luckiest person. Lance laughs and says Keith’s only saying that because he’s drunk, but thanks him anyway. He returns the favour, and says whoever actually does manage to land him’s gonna be one lucky bastard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Link to the original post](https://noussommeslessquelettes.tumblr.com/post/186733601966/oh-fun-things-you-said-mini-fic-11-or-20/).
> 
> This mini fic comes with a bonus smut chapter that I'm gonna be uploading this weekend (like right [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20931527/)) which is... basically the reason I'm uploading these now lol
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic, please kudo, comment, rec, and/or [reblog on Tumblr!](https://noussommeslessquelettes.tumblr.com/post/188130289826/klance-mini-fic-prompts-from-tumblr-chapter-1/)


	3. Things You Said when We Were on Top of the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Preview:** “Well shit, you’re not lookin’ so hot.”
> 
> Akira scoffed. Of course, this was the agent that had to find him like this.
> 
> “Sanchez,” he hissed through his teeth—he feared anything louder would further compound the pain in his undoubtedly broken ribs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: hmmm I saw the short fic ask... and I was torn between angst (#17) and something sweeter (#19) I was like idk... but since its my bday today and im feeling good after work... ill choose #21 for klance ofc -ATC
> 
> Happy v v v v late birthday!!! For this one, I thought I’d try a stab at leakira–this prompt just screamed “battle couple klance” to me. This one’s a bit shorter; I think it’s the only one that can actually qualify as a mini fic lol

“Well shit, you’re not lookin’ so hot.”

Akira scoffed. Of course,  _ this _ was the agent that had to find him like this.

“Sanchez,” he hissed through his teeth—he feared anything louder would further compound the pain in his undoubtedly broken ribs.

“Kogane,” the other offered in reply, his footsteps echoing closer until they stopped, his shadow falling over Akira’s slumped form against the wall. “Did they get you?”

He grit his teeth, trying to determine if a shrug or a hum would hurt less. He considered it for too long, clearly, when Leandro moved to kneel beside him, his voice softening.

“Akira—”

“‘M fine,” he grit out, lifting his head to match Leandro’s gaze. His brow furrowed harshly, frown lines accentuated from the long years spent fighting this war, but in his eyes Akira caught a flicker of concern, one he probably wouldn’t have been able to identify if he didn’t know him any better. “Took the ‘bots out, but one managed to land a few hits on me before it.” He scoffed. It was just his luck to get taken down two steps away from the final faceoff with the Empire.

“Are you bleeding?” He shook his head. “Well you better get off your ass then, ‘cause you ‘n me are ending this, once and for all.” He flashed Akira a smirk, then moved to stand.

“Leo, wait.” He froze, quirking an eyebrow. “Hold on until backup gets here. I can’t go any farther than this.”

Leandro blew a scoff. “Hate to break it to you, buttercup, but backup’s not coming. You and me are the last one’s standing; everyone else is out of comm.”

“ _ You _ are,” he corrected. “I’m out too.”

He rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Akira, we didn’t come  _ this _ far for me to leave you behind when we’re moments away from victory. I don’t care if I have to carry you in my arms when we bust in there, guns blazing— _ you’re coming with me _ .”

Akira sighed. “I bet you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” The image of Leandro cradling him in one arm while letting loose with a machine gun in the other like some twisted action-figure fantasy flashed briefly in his mind’s eye, and it pulled a painful chuckle from him.

“It’d be a pretty sexy visual, you’ve got to admit.” He shuffled to Akira’s side, and wedged an arm between his back and the wall. Akira winced, but stopped short of vocalising his discomfort.

“I don’t have to admit anything,” he replied, comforted by the solace of a familiar banter between them when it felt like his ribcage had just been used for batting practice. He eased his opposite hand off his side, then threw the arm over Leandro’s shoulder.

Leandro’s hand landed on his hip, gently at first, then he gripped on more firmly when he met no protest. “C’mon, we both know you’ve got a thing for me. You ready?”

Akira drew his feet up under him, afraid an affirmative communicated otherwise might’ve given Leandro the wrong idea. “I told you already: I don’t have the time to think about shit like that.”

Leandro hummed, taking on the brunt of Akira’s weight as he stood them both up. “If all goes well, that shouldn’t be a problem anymore.”

“It won’t be if all goes to shit, either.”

Leandro barked a laugh, tugging Akira along as he took their first step. “Tell you what: if we make it out of this mess alive, you finally say yes to that date I’ve been asking for.”

Akira rolled his eyes, incredulous that Leandro was  _ still _ on that. But… “Sure. Why the hell not?”

“You’ll be thankin’ me later, after you see how cool and sexy I am taking down Zarkon.”

With a wince, he pulled his hand away from his side, unholstering his blaster as they approached the doorway. “Petra’s hacked the security, right?”

Leandro nodded, his tone sobering up. “He’s alone in there, or so she says. Outgunned, outnumbered, nowhere else to go.”

They stilled before the double doors, taking in the weight of what was about to happen. The fate of the rebellion—of the whole world—hinged on their next thirty seconds. Leandro looked to him, the silent question hanging in the air between them.

_ Are you ready? _

Akira scoffed. “What? Are you waiting for a kiss good luck?”

After a moment, Leandro smirked, shaking his head. “Don’t need it—you can get it to me after.”

Then he kicked open the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Link to the original post](https://noussommeslessquelettes.tumblr.com/post/186754466666/hmmm-i-saw-the-short-fic-ask-and-i-was-torn/). 
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic, please kudo, comment, rec, and/or [reblog on Tumblr!](https://noussommeslessquelettes.tumblr.com/post/188130289826/klance-mini-fic-prompts-from-tumblr-chapter-1/)


	4. Things You Said Too Quietly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Preview:** Luis rolled his eyes, stepping back. “Whatever, just don’t take too long. If I have to put a single fork in place, you’re switching to dishes, _princesa_.”
> 
> Lance sneered at the jab, but didn’t dare retaliate, slamming the door in his brother’s face. “Alright,” he muttered, spinning on his heel, “he’s gone.”
> 
> _CW: minor LGBTQphobia_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ellisyd sent a post "send me a ship an...": Klance 3
> 
> This one was super fun! I went with something of a high school AU, and the story kinda got out of control in my head. If u want to know the ending I envisioned, I’m leaving it in the tags! (also catch me subtly sneaking ADHD Lance and Autistic Keith in here. No I will never apologise)

Lance ripped his bedroom door open just wide enough to poke his head out, fixing his older brother with a glare. “What.”

Luis held his hands up in surrender, though the smile he failed to dampen betrayed that it was anything but sincere. “Jeez, sor _ ry _ . What, are you watchin’ porn in there or—”

“I’m  _ studying _ ,” Lance hissed, fist tightening around the doorhandle, “so make it quick: what do you want?”

He hooked a thumb towards the stairs. “Dinner’s in five, ‘n mom wants you to set the table.”

He rolled his eyes.  _ Seriously? _ “Tell her I’m too busy for dinner.” He made to close the door, but Luis intercepted it with a hand (and since Lance was sixteen now, he unfortunately couldn’t get away with shutting the door on his brother’s fingers anymore.) He aired a frustrated growl as his brother tutted, pushing the door open wider.

“Abuelita will have a stroke if you skip dinner, you  _ know _ that. And it’s your turn to do set-up—it’s either that or dish duty, ‘cause I’m  _ not _ picking up your slack tonight.”

“Why can’t Rachel do it?” Luis’s eyebrows receded into his hairline, and Lance huffed. “Yeah I know, I didn’t believe it when I said it either.” He glanced over his shoulder, thankfully finding nothing amiss in the bedroom behind him. He turned back to his brother. “Alright, fine. Just tell her I’m finishing the question I’m on, and I’ll be right down.”

Luis rolled his eyes, stepping back. “Whatever, just don’t take too long. If I have to put a single fork in place, you’re switching to dishes,  _ princesa _ .”

Lance sneered at the jab, but didn’t dare retaliate, slamming the door in his brother’s face. He rolled the tension out of his shoulders, waiting a second, then two, hearing the footsteps recede towards the stairs on the other side of the door. “Alright,” he muttered, spinning on his heel, “he’s gone.”

From behind his unmade bed, Keith sat up into view, his brow furrowed thoughtfully. “Did he call you princess?”

Lance sighed, moving towards him as Keith pushed up to his feet. “Older brothers,” he explained. “Doing dishes is gross, but apparently  _ I’m _ the weird one for thinking so. I have to watch my dad  _ lick _ his knife clean, then wash it with my bare hands?” He shuddered.

“Get gloves,” Keith suggested.

He scoffed. “Yeah, ‘cause  _ that _ ’ll make me less of a princess.” Keith frowned, and Lance took hold of his hands in a silent apology for his terseness. He felt the frayed backs of Keith’s fingerless gloves, and it pulled a smirk out of him. “They look badass on you, though. I can’t pull off the grunge look.”

Keith scoffed. “Yeah, ‘cause you’re a mama’s boy.”

“Uh, ouch?” He laughed. “I sneak a boy in through my window every day—if that’s not the pinnacle of teenage rebellion, I don’t know what is.”

“Maybe sneaking in through a guy’s window every day?” He lifted his eyes up from their hands, revealing his smug grin.

Lance snorted, tugging him close enough to press their lips together. Keith accepted it readily, the kiss gentle and lingering, tight-lipped from the smiles they both fought down. They broke apart, but Lance brought a hand up to Keith’s cheek, keeping him close as his thumb stroked idly.

“I have to go now,” Keith breathed, “don’t I?”

His smile faded. “Afraid so.”

Keith whined, soft enough that Lance probably wouldn’t have heard it were he more than a breath away. “We only had ten minutes left,” he lamented.

Lance blinked slowly, remembering only then what they’d been doing before Luis had so rudely interrupted them. “I’ll be honest, I wasn’t really paying attention to the episode, anyway.”

Keith barked a laugh. “I  _ figured _ .” He pulled away to arms length, then brought his hand up to his neck, brushing fingers against the bruise blossoming under his jawline from Lance’s earlier attention. “You probably gave me a hickie.”

Lance smirked, self-satisfied. “That  _ was _ the goal.” He leaned in for it, and Keith’s hands landed on his chest, pushing him away with a laugh. “Wait wait wait,” he protested, wrapping his arms around Keith’s waist and trying to pull him back in.

“I have to  _ go _ ,” Keith reiterated, steps carrying him backward towards the window despite Lance’s resistance. “Serious, Lance. We’re going to get caught.”

Lance froze, then acquiesced, standing straighter and loosening his grip. “I thought  _ I _ was supposed to be the responsible one.”

“Yeah, so  _ be _ responsible then. You don’t want your family seeing me.”

Lance frowned, a sharp guilt jabbing into his gut. “I’m sorry.”

Keith shook his head, puffing out his chest subconsciously, the way he always did when he was trying to seem tough. “Don’t be.”

“They’re just—”

“You don’t have to explain it,” he interrupted. Lance had tried already, countless times now. But the words always caught somewhere on the way out, and he figured Keith was tired of half-excuses by this point. “I get it; I’m not the kind of guy you take home to mom.”

“But you’re cute enough that I sneak you in anyway,” he tried for a compromise.

Keith turned on his heel, hiding a shy smile that Lance caught only a glimpse of. “Whatever.”

Lance hummed, letting his hands drop as he followed Keith towards the window. “Yeah, you’ve got another catchphrase you stole from a punk rock band in the tank?”

Keith slid the window open as far as it could go, then reached up to jiggle the top of the mesh screen frame loose. “How about…” He tugged it free with a grunt, then eased the bottom half out of the frame. “‘I hate this town’?”

He chuckled, taking the frame from Keith’s hands and setting it on the floor. “Alright, I’ll accept it. But you don’t hate  _ everything _ about this town—you like  _ me _ , right?”

Keith’s expression softened, and he brought a hand up to cradle Lance’s jaw. Then he pulled Lance in, and caught him in a soft, slow kiss.

“Mm.” Lance pulled back. “What was that?”

Keith blinked. “What?”

“You…” He touched his fingers to his lips, then caught himself a moment later, swiping away at his mouth. “Didn’t you say something?”

Keith furrowed his brow. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You  _ did _ ,” he protested. “I definitely felt—”

“ _ Lance _ !” He heard behind his bedroom door, footsteps thundering up the stairs. Keith’s eyes went wide, and he snatched his hand away, swinging a leg over the windowsill.

“Wait,” he whispered, panicking, almost.  _ What did he say? Why wasn’t he telling me? _ But they’d run the clock; any second, someone was going to come through that door and see…

He leaned forward and pecked Keith on the lips, deciding it wasn’t worth the risk.

“Text me.”

Keith nodded, ducking under the frame. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He swung his other leg through and dropped, the dip of the branches just outside Lance’s window indicating that he’d safely caught himself on the neighbour’s tree.

Lance fumbled to replace the bug screen, then slammed the window shut so nothing seemed out of place. He breathed a relieved sigh, his respite lasting only a moment before the bedroom door was thrown open.

“Is your head up your ass? Let’s fucking go!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Adding the tags in for posterity's sake)
> 
> #voltron#klance#squelette writes#any guesses as to what Keith said??? ;)#so yeah basically how this resolves is:#Lance's mom catches them as Keith's midway through trying to climb out#in their collective shock Keith loses his balance and falls out the window#breaks his leg#so he gets very acquainted with Lance's mama on the drive to the hospital#and Lance has the Talk with his mom while they're waiting for Keith's x-rays#she basically berates him for being A Sneaky Boi but understands why he felt the need to do it#then basically says 'well guess Keith's gonna have to come through the front door from now on w the shape of his leg'#ALSO the neighbours whose tree Keith uses to sneak in are two lesbians who are in staunch support of the bois#they think it's cute and romantic and always offer Keith a lemonade when he's passing through their backyard#also Lance's mom makes him apologise to the neighbours for Keith's use of the tree and they have to pretend they don't know#but it all ends up happy#also Lance's whole family signs Keith's cast#ellisyd  
  
[Link to the original post](https://noussommeslessquelettes.tumblr.com/post/186755349991/ellisyd-this-one-was-super-fun-i-went-with/).
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic, please kudo, comment, rec, and/or [reblog on Tumblr!](https://noussommeslessquelettes.tumblr.com/post/188130289826/klance-mini-fic-prompts-from-tumblr-chapter-1/)


End file.
